


Abnormal Psychology and Domestic Terrorism

by Annakovsky



Category: Community
Genre: Alterego, Animal Death, Imaginary Friends, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:18:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annakovsky/pseuds/Annakovsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where it turns out Abed's been accidentally reenacting Fight Club this whole time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abnormal Psychology and Domestic Terrorism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyra Cullinan (Kyra)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyra/gifts).



> This is set after Troy and Abed moved in together, but before Annie moved in with them.

Abed is looking forward to starting at Greendale Community College. He likes the pilot episode vibe of the first day at a new school, everything awash in possibility, characters and setting just getting introduced. 

That said, it's always been clear to Abed that he's not the protagonist of whatever show he happens to be on. He could be the quirky sidekick in an ensemble show, sure, but it would take an unconventional show to even include someone like Abed as a sidekick, so let's face it, being a protagonist is totally out of reach. First of all, the protagonist should be white. A girl _might_ be okay, maybe, more so if it's a teen show -- your Veronica Marses, your Buffys -- but a guy is better, and Abed thinks he's getting too old to be on a teen show anyway. And the protagonist should be taller than Abed, with a really good body, so he can take his shirt off for steamy sex scenes. Successful in his way, though maybe something of a loose cannon, a bad boy, attractive to women, the kind of charismatic figure that a regular cast would gather around. Someone with a complicated and somewhat implausible backstory. Abed is Arab and looks like Gumby, has seen every single episode of The X-Files and never made a friend -- there's no way Abed's the protagonist.

Luckily, he meets Jeff Winger his first day.

**

Abed moves in with Troy two years after they meet, in the third season. He thinks it will be fun, and it is fun, but having Troy around all the time is a little more overwhelming than Abed bargained for. When they're in the blanket fort, Troy is there, snugged up against his side, body hot against Abed's. Watching TV, he's there, their fingers accidentally brushing in the bowl of popcorn wedged between them. Everywhere he looks, there's Troy. Troy's toothbrush next to his in the Inspector Spacetime DARSIT toothbrush holder on their bathroom sink, Troy sleeping on the bunkbed above his. Troy walking around the apartment with his shirt off, jeans slung low on his hips.

It's a good thing they installed the Dreamatorium. It helps ease some of the pressure growing in Abed's head, siphon it off a little bit at a time before it gets to be too much.

**

Later, Abed would think that in retrospect, the day everything started was pretty ordinary. 

After their morning classes, Troy and Abed climb up onto the roof of their apartment building with Abed's grappling hook to survey the area. 

"I don't know," Abed says, looking down off the edge. Their building is only two stories tall, but that seems a lot higher when you're actually at the top. "It's pretty high."

"I think we could do it," Troy says. "We just have to hook this on the edge, and then scale down. It'd be bad _ass_." 

Troy takes a step toward the edge of the roof, but his foot starts to slip, and he grabs at Abed's hand to steady himself, giving a panicky shriek at the same time. For a split second, it seems like he really might fall, but then Abed's pulling him back, and Troy's caught his balance, and everything's fine. Abed's heart is beating very, very fast.

"Oh my God," Troy says, gasping like he's going to hyperventilate. He doesn't much like heights, though he pretends he's not scared. 

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," Abed says. Troy's hand is big, wrapped around Abed's, and he hasn't let go yet. "Someone could get hurt."

"Yeah," Troy says. If anything, he's holding Abed's hand tighter. Abed feels like he's starting to get a headache, and he wants to go play in the Dreamatorium very, very badly. 

"Troy," Abed says. "You're holding my hand."

"Oh," Troy says. He laughs a little oddly, and lets go. "Sorry. Hey, look, we're going to be late for study group."

Crap. They are. Abed was hoping they could get in a round of Space Pirates in the Dreamatorium to let off some steam before they had to go to campus.

But instead they have to grab their stuff and walk over to the library, passing the dean's office and the Spanish building on the way. In the study room, Britta and Annie are talking about The Hunger Games books (Annie is Team Peeta; Britta is Team Katniss Needs a Man Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle), and Pierce is telling Shirley what, judging from her expression, is a very long and possibly racist joke. No one pays any attention to Troy and Abed coming in, which means Troy can bump Abed's shoulder and ask him if they can play Kickpuncher later. In Kickpuncher Abed usually plays the girl.

Before Abed can answer, Jeff walks in, slapping a sign down on the table. "Have you guys _seen_ this?" he says, voice full of drama and outrage. Everyone gets up to go cluster around it. "They're raising tuition! The announcement was hanging outside the dean's office!"

"What?!" Britta says. "This is unconstitutional!"

Jeff is furious. Everyone else is mildly annoyed. "This is so typically Greendale," Jeff says. "I, for one, am sick of putting up with their bullshit."

**

Their protests of the tuition raise start small. Most of the study group isn't particularly interested. Even Troy. "Hey," he says to Abed in the morning. "You want to do shadow puppets after class?"

"I can't," Abed says, gathering up his books. "I have to help Britta make signs."

Troy's face falls. "Oh," he says.

"You can come too," Abed says, but Troy's face stays still and closed off.

"No," he says, his voice flat. "That's okay. You and Britta have fun together."

Abed almost points out that Jeff will be there too, but Troy's headed for the kitchen to make his morning bowl of Lucky Charms and it doesn't seem important enough to yell after him.

**

It takes a lot of work to hold a good protest. The three of them meet in the study room and spend hours organizing, thinking up clever slogans for the signs, way more than they need. "We have to think big," Jeff says, when Britta points out that it's way too many signs considering that so far they're the only ones who will be there.

"If you build it, they will come," Abed agrees. Jeff looks at him the annoyed way he does when he thinks Abed's quoting movies too much.

" _Anyway,_ " Jeff says, when he finishes glaring at Abed. "I'll recruit people. I _think_ I can talk some of these sheep into coming to a little protest." He says it full of overconfident bluster, the way Jeff always does, like he'll have the whole campus at their protest without breaking a sweat. But Abed has to admit Jeff at least has the persuasive follow-through to justify the confidence.

Once they've got the slogans decided on, all they have to do is actually make the signs, magic markers and posterboard spread around them, but the whole process seems to take a lot longer than Abed expects. Pretty soon it's really late, library emptied out and dark except for their study room. Abed goes down the hall to use the bathroom, the hum of the fluorescent lights creepy in the silence.

He gets a little bit of a weird feeling on his way back, as he approaches the door of the study room, and slows down just in time to hear Britta saying, "Wow, so. You and me alone in the study room at midnight. _That's_ never a good sign."

Abed pauses just on the other side of the door, hidden by the doorjamb. He can just see the sides of Jeff and Britta's heads.

"Are you saying you're going to jump my bones again?" Jeff says. From the tone of his voice, Abed thinks he's smirking.

"Shut up," Britta says, and punches him in the arm. "You're the one who's always making out with _me_."

They must know Abed's going to come back from the bathroom any minute, and if they actually looked towards the door they would probably see him, but Jeff and Britta are only focused on each other. Britta's hand is lingering against Jeff's arm. 

Abed thinks about them drunkenly making out with each other right in front of him in the back of Jeff's car after Troy's twenty-first birthday party. Like he was a piece of furniture. As he thinks it, Jeff leans in.

Jeff and Britta end up having athletic sex on the table in the study room, as though they think Abed's never coming back from the bathroom at all. Britta makes a lot of noise. It seems like Jeff's pretty good at it. Abed sits in the hallway with his arms around his knees and waits for them to finish.

**

The protest is supposed to be the next day at three outside the administration building. Abed holds the giant pile of signs and stands next to Britta, who's fidgeting.

"Uh, yeah, so what do we do if no one else shows?" she says.

"Oh, they'll show," Jeff says, no sign of nerves behind his Ray-Bans.

Fat Neil shows up first. "Hey, buddy, grab a sign!" Jeff says, clapping him on the back. After him, there's Vicky and Garrett and Leonard and then a flood of people, some of whom Abed swears he's never seen before. Nice work, Jeff.

"All right," Britta says, around the time Abed's handing out their fiftieth sign. "I retract my worry."

Jeff smirks at her, sex in his look, and Abed might as well be invisible. Not that he minds. The protest is what's important now.

**

After that, the demonstrations really start taking off. The study room becomes their headquarters, a Grand Central Station buzzing with activity, signs being made and chants being recited, a mimeograph machine constantly running off protest fliers.

"Um," Annie says, one day when she comes by expecting their study group to be meeting, and instead is confronted with twenty people she doesn't know performing an impressive array of synchronized tasks. She looks at Jeff like he's lost his mind. "Don't you think this is a little extreme? It's only a four percent raise in tuition."

"It's the principle of the thing, Annie," Jeff says, not even pausing in sketching his diagram of the best way to break into the dean's office to stage a sit-in.

Annie takes a step closer. She looks a little insecure. "Is this about Britta?" she says in an undertone. They've got that whole love triangle thing going on -- Jeff really does an excellent job being the protagonist. You'd think he was using a checklist.

"What?" Jeff says as though that's outrageous, even though he and Britta have slept together two more times since that first night. Late nights in the study room planning coordinated acts of vandalism and all. "No! Don't be ridiculous."

Abed checks his phone. He has two missed calls from Troy. He hasn't been home since yesterday morning, but he's sure Troy's fine without him. He'll call him back later.

**

He forgets to call Troy back -- Jeff wants him to lead a squad of recruits to spray paint, _Go fuck yourself, Greendale,_ on the overpass the dean drives under on his way to campus -- and he gets caught up in the mission.

He and his team have just gotten back to the study room, everyone laughing and talking, excited from pulling it off, when Troy appears in the doorway. 

Abed can't get to him right away, has to make sure to finish congratulating everybody on a job well done first, but he eventually makes his way over. "Hey, Troy!" he says. "How're things?"

Even though everyone else in the room is smiling and celebrating, breaking open some root beer, Troy looks very serious. "Um, okay, I guess," he says.

"You want some root beer?" Abed says.

"No," Troy says. "Thanks. Hey, can we talk? In private?"

Abed shrugs, and they head for the side door leading outside the library. 

"Why do you have paint on your hands?" Troy says. 

"Oh," Abed says, turning his hands over. He hadn't noticed how green they are. "We were out doing some protesting. It went well." He scratches at the paint, flaking some of it off. He'll have to get some turpentine to really clean up.

"Okay," Troy says. He holds the door for Abed. The air outside is cool and clean, streetlights shining fuzzy circles of light on the pavement, sky going a deepening purple. It was a nice night for a secret mission.

"So what's up?" Abed says, once the door's shut behind them and no one else is around. He sits down on the steps in front of the door.

After a second Troy sits down beside him. He doesn't seem to know how to start. He picks up a twig from off the stairs and fiddles with it for a second. Finally he says, "Hey, are we okay?"

Abed blinks at him. "Of course," he says. "Why wouldn't we be okay?"

Troy shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek. "I don't know," he says. "It seems like you're avoiding me. And you've been acting really weird lately. Why are you running an army?"

"An army?" Abed says. 

"That's what everyone's calling it," Troy says. "And all those guys in there were wearing commando clothes."

"Well, yeah," Abed says. "We have to wear black so people don't see us when we're on our missions." 

Abed is about to go on to point out that he's not the one running things, that Jeff's the one in charge here, but before he can, Troy looks him full in the face for the first time in the conversation. His eyes look very dark, face open and vulnerable. "Abed," he says, and he puts his hand on top of Abed's, where it's resting on the concrete of the stairs.

Abed suddenly feels that same familiar stress-headache rushing on, like something in the back of his mind is making a high-pitched sound of alarm. The kind of headache he used to alleviate with the Dreamatorium, which he hasn't had to use since they started the protests. He stares at their hands, the pink beds of Troy's nails, the way his fingers overlap with Abed's. Abed can't think; his head hurts too bad, he feels dizzy and strange.

"Abed?" Troy says, from what seems like very far away. He doesn't move his hand.

"What are you doing?" Abed manages to say. 

Behind them, Jeff flings open the door of the library. 

"Nothing," Troy says, not turning his head at the sound of the door, still staring straight at Abed. "I just want to know if we're okay."

"What the hell is going on out here?" Jeff says.

"I don't know," Abed says, pulling his hand out from under Troy's. "I don't know."

"You don't know if we're okay?" Troy says. He looks alarmed.

"No," Abed says. "What? Of course we're okay."

"Abed, would you get back in here?" Jeff says. "We need you for the debrief. You can't keep disappearing on me."

"We are?" Troy says, still just focused on Abed.

"Yeah, sure, we're fine," Abed says to Troy. "Sorry, I have to go." He gets up and hurries back to the open door, not wanting to keep Jeff waiting. 

"Um, okay... I guess I'll see you later?" Troy says from behind him. He sounds a little sad, but can't he see that Abed has a lot going on right now?

**

Abed goes to take a quick nap on one of the couches in the library, and wakes up feeling groggy and exhausted, with the vague sense that he slept longer than he meant to. It's dark outside, and he tries to stretch, get a kink out of his neck. He has no idea what time of day it is.

He wanders back toward the study room, trying to wake up, his thoughts still clouded and opaque. As he gets closer to the study room, the sense of energy picks up in the building, people in commando gear moving purposefully through the hall, some of them carrying what must be paintball guns, some of them baseball bats. Abed isn't sure what's going on. Most of them nod to him, but none of them pause, like they're all on their way somewhere important. 

The situation's the same in the study room, which is crammed full of people all moving around each other in a complicated dance, the room smelling of sweat, hot with the pack of bodies. As Leonard passes him, Abed says, "Hey, Leonard, what time is it?"

Leonard blinks at him a little suspiciously. After a second he looks at his watch. "Eight-fifty-six synchronized project mayhem time, sir," Leonard says. 

Abed... does not understand what most of those words mean in this context. "What?" he says.

"Three hours and four minutes till detonation," Leonard says. "Don't worry, sir. We're right on schedule."

"Detonation?" Abed says. "Detonation of what?"

Leonard still looks wary. "Is there a problem, sir?" he says.

Ugh, Jeff's right, Leonard is useless. "Never mind," Abed says, and pushes his way through the crowd, trying to find Jeff. He's got to be around here somewhere, and he's so tall, you'd think you'd be able to see him. Where did all these people come from, anyway? How long was he asleep?

"Out of the way!" Garrett's voice yells, coming from the hallway. People are already clearing a path for him, and a bunch of guys with shaved heads sweep the papers and weird tubs of chemicals off the study room tables. 

Garrett's agitated and upset, cradling something in his arms, and when he puts it down on the table, it's the dead body of Annie's Boobs, its little monkey corpse limp and gory, blood all over the front of Garrett's shirt. 

"Annie's Boobs!" Abed says, shoving his way forward through the crowd. Troy's going to be devastated. "Oh my God, what happened?"

"We were doing the mission, just like you said," Garrett says. Mission? Wait, like who said? "The monkey was going to crawl through the vents to let us into the science building, but they had guns!"

Abed shakes his head, trying to clear it. Everything is being very confusing, and he still feels so groggy, like he can't think straight. "Who had guns?" he says.

"Security!" Garrett says. "They must be amping up after all the vandalism! We didn't know!"

The monkey's blood is seeping out, puddling on the table under its body. This has gone way too far -- no tuition raise is worth dead monkeys and detonating anything. _What_ are they detonating, anyway? "You idiots," Abed says. His voice comes out loud, loud enough that everyone stops talking and stares at him. God, though, that poor monkey. Troy loved that monkey. "Who's in charge here? Where's Jeff?" Everyone looks at each other. They shift uneasily but no one says anything. "Where is he?"

"Sir?" Garrett says. 

What is _wrong_ with everyone? "Never mind, I'll find him myself," Abed says, and pushes his way through the crowd and out the door. 

He doesn't seen anyone else he knows in the entire rest of the library, even though everyone in there seems to be working on the protests in some form or another. It's not until he's outside that he finally sees Britta at the center of a knot of commandos, bent over what looks like a map of campus. Britta has eyeblack smeared across her cheekbones like a football player. "Britta?" Abed says. 

Britta looks up and grins. "Oh, good, there you are," she says. She grabs his hand, pulling him a little bit away from the group. 

"Britta," Abed says again, voice low so everyone else can't hear him. "We have to shut this down, things are getting out of control."

For some reason, she's still holding onto his hand, squeezing it conspiratorially. Their fingers are laced together, and her thumb is stroking Abed's skin, and seriously, what is going on with everybody?

"What?" she says, but still doesn't let go. "But the administration's about to cave! We're right on the verge of getting rid of this tuition hike forever. Everything's going according to plan."

"Wait," Abed says. "What plan? Are we detonating something? Leonard said we were detonating something, but since when are we detonating something?"

Britta blinks at him. She's still holding his hand, all casual like they do this all the time. Isn't she sleeping with Jeff? "Um... it's your plan, Abed. Why are you acting so weird?"

"I'm not acting weird, you're acting weird!" Abed says. He's starting to feel a little panicky, and his head is throbbing like crazy, like there's a hammer pounding on his forehead, and why won't anyone say anything that makes sense?

"Where have you been, anyway?" Britta says. 

"Nowhere," he says. He reaches up to rub his temple with his free hand, God, how is this headache so bad? It feels like Athena's about to burst out of his skull. "I was -- I was just asleep, and when I woke up, everything was -- and why are you holding my hand?"

"Abed..." Britta says slowly. She looks like she's starting to get really concerned.

"Where's Jeff?" Abed says. He can barely see, the pain is so bad, but Jeff will know what's going on -- this has to be Jeff's plan, anyway, Jeff's been in charge of all these protests.

But Britta just looks even more confused. "Who's Jeff?" she says.

** 

When Abed comes back to himself, he's running down the middle of the street, sneakers slapping against the pavement, footsteps a frantic metronome beating time underneath a high-pitched shriek coming from somewhere.

When Abed gasps for breath, the shriek stops. Oh. It's coming from Abed's mouth. That's interesting. 

He slows down, holding the stitch in his side, looking around to try to figure out where he is. For a second he doesn't recognize anything, but then he sees the playground to his right and realizes he's at the park two blocks away from his apartment. No wonder he has a stitch in his side. He must've just run three full miles at a sprint.

He thinks he's probably thinking about the distance because he's in the middle of a massive freakout, but as he thinks that, he sees a person sitting on one of the swings. He takes a few tentative steps toward the figure; the silhouette looks familiar, those broad shoulders...

"Hi, Abed," Jeff says. 

"Jeff," Abed says, relieved. He walks towards him more confidently, so thankful to have found him. "Why are you out here? What's going on?"

As he gets closer, he can finally make out Jeff's face; Jeff's shaved his head too, just like all those military-looking guys back at the library. He looks strange and unsettling like that. At Abed's questions, he shrugs. "Nothing's going on," he says, his voice a little sardonic. "Everything's normal."

Abed stares at him harder, trying to figure out what his deal is. "Jeff, why doesn't Britta know who you are?"

At that, Jeff makes the sarcastically wry face he makes when he's about to say something really condescending. "C'mon, Abed. I think you know."

"No," Abed says. "I really don't."

Jeff rolls his eyes. "Think," he says. "You're a lot of things, but you're not dumb. What possible explanation could there be for Britta not knowing who I am?"

Abed has a sudden strange mental image of himself and Britta, naked together in the bunkbed of his old dorm room from last year. But... Jeff was the one who slept with Britta in Abed's bunkbed. Abed just walked in on them. Why does he remember...?

Jeff smirks at him. "Remember that year you spent obsessed with Fight Club?"

Abed blinks rapidly, his breathing coming fast, a wave of dizziness washing over him. Fight Club. Wait. Did Leonard call this Project Mayhem earlier? Abed can't think, he's busy being flooded with three years' worth of memories that are all backwards, reversed from how he thought they were. He has a sudden recollection of getting drunk all by himself so he could leave a believable drunk dial message for Britta. Dancing with the pizza guy on top of the table, just the two of them. Of himself on the debate stage, dropping Jeremy Simmons as Annie kissed him.

"When you think about it, it's actually more surprising that you didn't make up a Tyler Durden earlier," Jeff says. "You've always wanted an alterego to disappear into."

Abed stares at him, trying to concentrate on what Jeff's saying, block out the memory of playing pool in his underwear to prove a point. Jeff doesn't mean... but Jeff's been around for _three years_. He has to exist. It's not like Fight Club. Abed hasn't been being Jeff for three years. Has he?

"But you started the study group," Abed says, trying to get his bearings. He needs to sit down; he looks around for something to sit on and when there isn't anything, he finally puts his hands on his knees and bends over to try to catch his breath.

"Actually," Jeff says. "I only invited Britta. _You_ invited everyone else. I was just trying to hit on the pretty blond girl you thought looked like Elisabeth Shue, remember? The one way out of your league? Funny how I conveniently appeared in Spanish class after she blew you off."

Abed has a sudden image of himself typing Britta's number into his cell phone and labeling it "Hot blonde, Spanish class." 

"But," he says. He feels like his stomach's dropped out of his body. "Jeff, you have to exist. You're sleeping with Britta."

"I'm afraid _you're_ the one sleeping with Britta," Jeff says. "Didn't you think it was weird that we kept doing stuff in front of you?"

Even the first time they played paintball and Jeff and Britta did it -- and wait, how does Abed know that was the first time they did it? -- Abed was the last one to go, leaving Jeff and Britta alone together. And he had a weird feeling the next day that things were different. Oh God.

"You needed a protagonist," Jeff says. "Someone to have a love triangle with the two pretty white girls and to give the group inspirational speeches. And I'm perfect. I mean, have you seen my abs? You really thought these abs went to community college?"

He pulls his shirt up. They are extremely fictional abs.

"So yeah," Jeff says. "Obviously we're the same person. And I mean, I can understand why you're doing Project Mayhem now. Your dad's not going to be happy that you fell in love with a black guy."

That particular sentence is enough to stop the flood of mental images with what might as well be an audible record scratch. Abed feels himself go very, very still. He feels cornered; he wants to go to the Dreamatorium. His head hurts. His mouth has gone dry. "What?" he manages to say.

Jeff smirks at him like he knows exactly how much that sentence would freak Abed out. Which Abed guesses he does, if his dad is both their dads. "Blowing up the English Memorial Spanish Center does seem like a great way to take your mind off how much you want to bone Troy," he says, and then he suddenly disappears. Abed is standing alone on a playground, staring at an empty swing. Which he guesses he's been doing this entire time.

He doesn't want to bone Troy. That's crazy. So, so, so, so, so, so crazy. He stares at the empty swing trying to will Jeff to come back so he can tell him how crazy that is. He stares and stares and stares. Time passes.

"Um, Abed?" Troy's voice comes from weirdly close behind him. "Are you okay?"

Abed swivels around fast, startled. He must've moved so fast that he startled Troy too, because Troy jumps. 

"Of course I'm okay," Abed says. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" Troy is standing there, so familiar in his favorite green t-shirt, looking handsome in a way that would normally make Abed's head start to hurt. And here it comes, the pounding in his temples that makes him go running to the Dreamatorium to escape. That must've been making him disappear into Jeff all this time. 

For the first time, Abed tries to resist the feeling of wanting to run away. To stay in his body and let himself feel whatever he feels for Troy. To maybe be attracted to Troy. It makes him feel weird and dizzy and panicky for a second, but then the headache subsides, and it's just him and Troy standing there. Troy who he knows better than anybody, Troy who's safe. It's strange.

"Um, well," Troy says, "I was walking to the bus stop and saw you over here. You've been standing in one place and not moving for like fifteen minutes. I thought maybe you'd gone catatonic."

"No, I just," Abed starts, but then he suddenly remembers the other thing Jeff said, the part about blowing up the Spanish Center. "Oh God, what time is it?" he says. Troy blinks, startled at the urgency of Abed's tone, and when he doesn't move fast enough, Abed just reaches out and grabs Troy's arm himself to look at his watch. There's only a half hour left before Leonard said the detonation was scheduled. Geez, how long was Abed having a meltdown for?

"Abed, what's going on?" Troy says. "You're freaking me out."

"Troy," Abed says, in his most serious voice. "Do you think we can defuse a bomb?"

Troy blinks at him. "An imaginary bomb?" he says. "Sure."

They've defused literally hundreds of imaginary bombs, but Abed has the feeling this one isn't imaginary. "Not imaginary this time," Abed says. "Real." He notices that he's fallen into Jeff's inflections without thinking about it, authoritative and heroic. No wonder it was always so easy for him to do a Jeff imitation.

Troy blinks at him again.

"The tuition protests have gotten a little out of control," Abed says. "I think they're going to blow up the Spanish Center."

Troy's eyes widen enormously. " _What?!_ " he says. 

**

Luckily the bus comes fast, and he and Troy sprint from the bus stop to the Spanish Center in record time. They slow as they approach the door. "Act natural," Abed says to Troy out of the corner of his mouth, and sure enough, there are some commandos hanging around the door.

"Sir," one says to Abed, holding the door open for him. 

Abed nods to him seriously, acting like he's the one in charge here -- which he guesses he is. "Thank you," he says. "Could you just remind me where the device is?"

"Of course, sir," the commando says. "Third floor."

Abed nods to him again, and he and Troy walk with great deliberation to the stairwell, until they're out of sight of the commandos and can sprint up the stairs. 

There's a lounge on the third floor with a big picture window overlooking the campus, and Abed's pretty sure that's where they must have set up the bomb. Sure enough, there are a few Project Mayhem members in the hall outside, and they respectfully hold the door for Troy and Abed just like the ones did downstairs. Thank God. At least since Abed is Jeff, he can get to this bomb in time to defuse it.

"Okay, great," Abed says as soon as they're in the lounge, starting to look around. 

"Um, Abed?" Troy says after a few seconds. "I thought you said there was a bomb in here."

The room does seem to be empty, but Jeff definitely said they were blowing up the Spanish Center, and... Abed hears the distinctive snick of the deadbolt to the lounge door being thrown, locking them inside.

Crap.

He and Troy both spin around to see a commando looking in at them, smirking through the little window in the door. Fantastic. The real bomb must be somewhere else. 

"I knew you'd try to sabotage me," Jeff says, suddenly appearing in the corner of the room. "God, you're so pathetic." 

"Where's the actual bomb?" Abed says to him.

"How should I know?" Troy says, at the same time as Jeff says, "In the dean's office, obviously. Why would we blow up the Spanish Center? I just got you up here so we'd have a good view of the fireworks."

The big picture window does overlook the administration building. Abed walks over to it to look, and can see commandos making their way away from the building, exactly like they've just finished up planting an explosive.

"Don't worry," Jeff says. "We cleared the building. No one's going to get hurt. We're just making a statement."

"Shut up," Abed says. "This is a terrible idea."

Troy looks extremely confused. "I... didn't say anything," he says. "Hey, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Abed says. "I was wrong. They're blowing up the dean's office. See?" He points down to the little ant-like people below them, scurrying away from the building. Troy comes over to look. "We're too late," Abed says. "They locked us up here so we wouldn't be able to stop it. This is all my fault."

"Fault?" Jeff says. "I can't believe you're getting upset about the greatest thing we've ever done." 

"How is it your fault?" Troy says. 

Abed tries to think what to do about this. Why can't he get rid of Jeff? He doesn't want to have to shoot himself in the head like Edward Norton did in Fight Club. He doesn't have a gun, anyway.

"I can't believe you're thinking about how to get rid of me," Jeff says. "You need me. Who were you before I came along? Just a loser with Asperger's and no friends. Do you want to go back to that? Remember how lonely you were, Abed?"

Abed looks at unreal Jeff, at his sculpted body, his perfect TV show face. He looks at Troy, an actual real person, his first real friend. He has an idea.

"It's my fault because I made up an alterego," Abed says to Troy. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jeff says, suddenly looking panicky. "What the hell?! Don't talk to him about me! How are you going to keep any friends if you tell them how psycho you are?"

Abed ignores him. "And I guess I was nervous about something but I didn't realize it, and my alterego went a little nuts to try to distract me. And he's the one who made the bomb. Did you ever see Fight Club?"

"Yeah," Troy says, still looking confused, but then his eyes widen. "Ohhhhhhhhh."

"Yeah, I love that movie," Abed says. "I guess I kind of accidentally reenacted it."

" _Dammit_ , Abed!" Jeff says. He looks agitated, like Abed really is threatening his existence by telling Troy about him. 

"I thought I needed some really handsome guy to be the protagonist, and have a will-they-won't-they thing going on with Britta. And with Annie. Even though they're not who I really like," Abed says. "But we're not on a TV show at all, are we?"

Troy blinks a few times, and Abed remembers how weird he got about Abed doing the protests with Britta. Has everyone known he's been sleeping with Britta this whole time? He wishes they'd told him.

"No," Troy says, watching Abed carefully. "We're not on a TV show. You, um... you can be with anybody you want." Abed sees Troy swallow.

"You're ruining everything," Jeff says. He looks very pale. It occurs to Abed that if he tells Troy how he feels about him, maybe he won't need Jeff to exist anymore.

"Yeah," Abed says, and he reaches out to take Troy's hand, Troy's skin warm against his. It doesn't give him a headache this time. Troy looks down at their hands wonderingly. 

"Please stop," Jeff says in a very faint voice.

"I kind of think I'm in love with you," Abed says to Troy. Finally.

"Oh, fuck you," Jeff says, and blinks out of existence.

Out the picture window, the administration building blows up right on cue, the blast rattling the window. Troy jumps, and Abed squeezes his hand. He knows what he's supposed to say. It's the last line he ever plans on delivering.

"You met me at a very strange time in my life," he says, debris starting to rain down outside, the administration building collapsing in front of them, and next to him, Troy begins to smile.


End file.
